


fury;

by ohlawsons



Series: cat nua [9]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: ...so i guess neria being a barbarian/druid is canon now, F/M, Pillars Prompts Weekly, death godlike watcher - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-01 22:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohlawsons/pseuds/ohlawsons
Summary: When Neria chose to dedicate herself to Galawain, she hadn't known there would be so muchdoubt. So she goes to her two best friends, to the two men who helped to set her on this path -- the druid who faltered and the Eothasian who didn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt 0021: resolutions
> 
> it's a bit indirect, since this prompt reeeeeeally got away from me, but a huge part of neria's growth throughout the later part of the game is involved with becoming a follower of galawain and it spurs a huge change in just about every part of her life

The druids told her she held too much anger.

What they couldn’t understand, what they couldn’t quite seem to grasp, was that it wasn’t about  _ anger _ . When Neria fought -- when battle-rage and blood lust overtook her, when her entire focus shifted to her target and her mind and body  _ sang  _ with strength -- it wasn’t about anger.

It was about retribution. It was about justice, about protection, about defending what was good and right and true.

Myra had taught her a long time ago that there wasn’t anything wrong with anger, as long as it was directed and purposeful and useful;  _ strike with intent _ , she’d always said, gently leading Neria away from fighting for the sake of throwing punches and trying to prove something. Myra hadn’t ever tried to temper Neria’s rage, only redirect it, and in time Neria had even taken to the monk’s teachings. 

But the druids of Twin Elms -- maybe they didn’t get it, maybe they just didn’t want to teach her -- they weren’t ever satisfied with her progress. She didn’t see the world correctly, they insisted, reprimanding her for the way she looked upon everything as a challenge to overcome or a threat to defend against. There are connections, they told her, webs and lines and whispers that link souls all throughout Eora. 

(They speak of souls as if she’s never known them. They instruct her, like a child, on how to draw upon the fragmented energy of the souls all around them, and when the magic doesn’t come to her she lashes out at the druid nearest to her and reaches for  _ his  _ soul and what she sees there makes her recoil and spit at his feet. 

_ I like to think of myself as open minded _ , she says with a sneer and makes no attempt to hide the venom in her voice,  _ but even I know better than to go around fucking married women.  _ She glares at him but it doesn’t matter, because he couldn’t see it even if he’d been willing to look up at her.  _ I know a thing or two about gods-damned soul energy -- or did you forget that I’m the fucking Watcher of Caed Nua? _

She waits another two weeks before they accept her back for another lesson, and it’s right back to the tedious lectures about energy. Her feelings of smug superiority don’t last long, either, because even if she’s a Watcher, her new teachers are glanfathan and souls are more familiar to them than they’ll ever be to her.)

It took three months of teaching and practice before she could even make the most hesitant grasp at magic. Seated at the edge of the Golden Grove in Elms’ Reach,  Neria held out a hand, driven by her fury at the situation and disappointment in herself, and around her there was a tug, like a thread being pulled through her body and her senses and her  _ mind _ ; she followed the thread and instead of guiding it she twisted and grabbed and  _ forced _ .

The druids before her parted and her own jaw went slack with surprise; there, illuminating a ring in the grass, was a pillar of vibrant sunlight drawn down at the point she’d been holding her hand out towards. She could understand, then, what the druids meant by webs and links and the interconnected energy of the souls.

She let herself sever the link there, and the well of light slowly faded. It hadn’t been very strong, evidently; she’d seen Hiravias do the same, back when he’d been traveling with her, with sunbeams so strong they burned flesh and left the ground dried and cracked. 

Neria’s had barely been strong enough to warm the air, but that didn’t stop her from breaking out into a wide grin and letting out a loud  _ whoop _ of excitement. The druids closest to her gave a start from the unexpected outburst, and before they had even recovered Neria had marched out of the Grove, a spring in her step and a lightness in her chest.

She didn’t know how religion worked, not really, and she assumed it was easier with deities with towering churches and chatty priests and scattered texts. With Galawain, though, she had found that being a follower was less about being told how to worship and more about  _ learning  _ to worship, each in their own way.

For Neria, it had been simple. Not hunting, or prayers, or elaborate carvings, but an appreciation as she slept beneath the stars, and a love for the challenge that each fight brought her, and a hunger for the answers that still eluded her. 

There was an altar, too, just beyond the city in the Northweald. She hadn’t been the one to create it, but had stumbled upon it long ago in the search for answers to Hiravias’ questions, over two years before. She’d hardly noticed it, then, but took comfort in visiting it in recent months. She would hunt and bring back a sacrifice, sometimes, but today she simply took her shakily-carved wolf’s head, the symbol of the god she wished to thank, and tugged it from the thin strap from where it hung at her belt. 

She placed it on the altar, and took a deep breath, and waited.

(The first time she comes to the altar she doesn’t know what she’s expecting. She sits, crosslegged in the dirt beside the altar, and rests her forehead against the cool stone. An afternoon passes, and then an evening, and the entire night, and when she wakes in the morning she thinks she understands.

Maybe it’s just a dream, maybe it’s a message, but she wakes with the words of the Seeker God in her mind.

_ If the answers elude you, do not wait for them to come to you. Go claim them. _ )

Nothing happened, but it didn’t alarm her, this time. She said a few words -- simple greetings and thanks that have become routine -- before breaking back out into a grin and smacking her hand on the altar with another  _ whoop  _ of joy. 

“I did it,” she called, holding her arms out wide and glancing up along the treeline. “I said I would, and I fucking  _ did  _ it.” Nothing but silence greeted  her, but it didn’t deter her or dampen her pride in the slightest. “I spent so much time shitting on the gods that I never bothered to see if there were any out there worth following. And I’m  _ worthy  _ of following you now, aren’t I? I’ll have to deal with the mark of Berath for my entire life, sure, but now I have something of  _ yours _ , too. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

Neria’s voice began to take on a desperate edge. She still wasn’t expecting an answer or even acknowledgement of her presence, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t so furiously  _ hoping _ . 

“It’s a start, at least,” she amended with a shrug, arms dropping helplessly to her side. “The beginning of a path towards understanding, right? There’s an energy that connects the wilds and I’ve  _ seen  _ that energy now. I can learn about the world -- and everything you protect -- in such a deeper way, now.”

There was still no answer, but she’d been  _ expecting  _ the silence and she wasn’t disappointed. At least, that’s what she told herself, standing there in the afternoon sun, alone, shouting up at the heavens. The gods hadn’t ever had time for her, beyond taking a few precious moments to completely fuck her over, so it shouldn’t surprise her if Galawain was the same. 

She didn’t say it, though, and didn’t even allow the thought to form fully before squashing it back down. She’d  _ seen  _ Galawain, had spoken with him and served him and been rewarded by him. Even if he no longer had a use for her, if he chose not to reveal himself again, he’d already proven himself different -- better -- than the other gods by assisting Neria at Teir Evron. 

Neria understood Hiravias’ frustrations with Galawain; she thought, then, of his renewed faith after traveling with her and the ferocity with which he’d set out to confront the elders of his tribe. Maybe, then, it wasn’t that the Lord of the Hunt was ignoring her. Maybe he just wasn’t impressed with her fledgling abilities.

She could work with that.


	2. Chapter 2

Neria spent another month with the druids in Twin Elms, learning a variety of simple spells and the basic concepts of spiritshifting. No form came to her, yet, but the druids didn’t seem surprised. It would take time, they assured her, but Neria was already so tired of waiting and being patient.

So she took the things they’d taught her -- all the spells and discipline and skills -- and left, choosing to bypass Dyrford Village in favor of traveling through the forests. She walked for days, taking a slower pace than usual and paying special care to the wilds around her.

The crunch of dried leaves and dead grass beneath her feet as she walked, the rough feel of the bark that flaked off the limbs she used to build her fires, the tug and loss of energy as she tore her axe into a deer trapped by brambles she’d created out of the ground -- none of it was new, not really, but the sensation, the _kinship_ , that was something she’d never felt before.

The wilds weren’t new to her, either; Neria had been through Rauatai and the Vailian Republics and Ixamitl before traveling to the Dyrwood, and most of her time wandering had been spent under open skies, with little more than the local fauna for company. She _loved_ it, the same as she loved a raucous night at a tavern, but this new understanding of magic and souls and connections had given her a new outlook on the wilds.

When she reached Caed Nua, she lingered at the edge of the northern forest, knowing how close she could get before her guards stumbled across her. She waited for days, fishing and hunting and practicing her new magical abilities; in the moments when she found herself driven mad by boredom -- which was often, as such inaction was unfamiliar to Neria -- she took the time to begin carving a new symbol of Galawain, discarding the first three attempts before the stylized wolf’s head looked correct.

She wasn’t _avoiding_ anything by hiding away in the forest at the edge of her lands, she told herself. She was learning, and searching, and soaking up the knowledge of Galawain’s domain.

(When she passes Dyrford, she makes camp so close to the village that she can see the lights and hear the laughter and music from the tavern. If she listens, she allows herself to imagine that she can hear Edér and lets her heart ache with how long it’s been since she’s seem him.

She could go to him, she thinks -- and she almost does -- but then she would have to face all that damned _faith_ he has in Eothas. It’s only ever been endearing, but now it sits in sharp contrast to Neria’s own shaky confidence in Galawain and she isn’t ready for that test, not yet.

When she arrives at Caed Nua, she sits and watches the smoke from the Brighthollow kitchens rise and twist through the evening sky and tells herself she isn’t avoiding the possibility of Edér being there.)

It had been nearly a week when she decided to venture all the way into Caed Nua. As Neria was gathering wood and limbs for her campfire that night, she could just make out some commotion at the gate nearest her; curious, and spurred on by her defensive nature of her keep and her guard, she discarded the firewood and crept towards the boundaries of her land.

There, arguing with the guard posted at the bridge, was Hiravias. Neria just barely held herself back from running forward right then and tackling the orlan in a hug; it would be difficult enough to explain her sudden presence, much less the way she’d been hiding nearby for several days.

Instead, she waited until Hiravias was permitted to enter -- mentally debating for a moment whether to applaud her staff’s diligence or to chastise them for giving one of her friends such a hard time -- and went back to her camp, taking her time gathering up her things before making her way towards Caed Nua.

She gave a polite nod to the guards as they notified her of Hiravias’ arrival, then continued on to Brighthollow as if her return were nothing special, not the end of a months-long journey of discovery and knowledge. With a brief detour to the kitchens to have them begin preparing a meal, Neria trudged all the way up to her room and dropped her pack on the floor as she closed the door behind her.

Hiravias was exactly who she needed to speak with, and perhaps this was acknowledgement from Galawain, or approval, or assistance.

Or perhaps it wasn’t anything but luck and happenstance, and she should stop searching for answers and deeper meaning in the smallest of occurrences.

Either way, Neria pushed the thoughts from her mind, allowing herself a long, warm bath and a comfortable change of clothes before she made her way back down to the kitchens. She caught her orange tabby, Pepper, meowing at her door as she left, and scooped him up and carried him down with her with no small amount of cooing and ridiculously affectionate greetings.

“Have you been keeping Penelope out of trouble?” she asked, cradling him against her chest and holding on like a lifeline. Neria had yet to come across her mischievous cattle dog, which was either a very good or very bad sign -- it meant she was behaving herself and not causing a ruckus, or that she had gotten bored and snuck off to create some sort of mess that Neria would have to deal with sooner or later.

But Pepper simply gave a cheery _mrrp_ in response, nuzzling his head against Neria’s shoulder and beginning to purr.

“Not a very reassuring answer, Peps.”

Still purring, Pepper began kneading at her arm, claws catching in her tunic. With a little shake, he pulled his paw free, leaving a catch in the navy fabric.

Neria shook her head and let out a dramatic sigh. “I know it’s been a while, but you don’t need to tear up the only decent thing in my wardrobe.” She playfully flicked the tabby’s paw away, grinning as he swatted at her hand in response, tail beginning to curl and sway in interest as he continued reaching for her hand.

“ _Still_ ignoring me for that cat, Watcher?”

Neria’s grin widened as she entered the kitchen, greeted by Hiravias’ own wry smile. “Well, only _one_ of you likes to cuddle.”

“I can’t help that I have an image to keep,” he shot back, licking at his fingers before diving back into the plate of meat he was in the middle of devouring. “Can’t have people thinking I’ve gone soft,” he insisted through a full mouth. “I figured you would understand, my death-visaged friend.”

“That’s because it’s more than an image for me,” Neria informed him, setting Pepper down on one of the benches and taking a seat herself across from Hiravias. “It’s a lifestyle.” Even as she sat, Pepper padded over and climbed into her lap, stretching up to inspect the table.

She let him explore until the cook brought her a plate of her own, and Neria set Pepper down on the floor -- insistently, and multiple times -- while she ate. She and Hiravias spent the evening swapping stories, laughing and catching up as Neria bemoaned the burdens of running a keep and Hiravias showed off new scars.

Hours later, as they walked along the barbican and Neria pointed out across the treeline towards the White March and they reminisce about old friends and long passed battles, Neria leaned up against the battlements and let out a long, low sigh.

If she was going to ask Hiravias about Galawain, now was the time.

“So, I’ve started training as a druid.”

Hiravias didn’t look up, but his good ear twitched in surprise. “Is that why you were in Twin Elms?” He settled against the cool stone of the barbican, one elbow propped up on a battlement as he stared out across the forest.

“Yeah. I would’ve asked _you_ , except I didn’t know where you were and it was sort of a sudden decision, after I, uhh--” She rubbed at the back of her neck, not sure she wanted to get into the whole story of what finally pushed  her to begin training. “Edér and I were in Twin Elms and the druids yelled at me and then I fought a bear with my… um, bare hands.”

“They yelled at you _before_ the fight?”

“Yeah, it’s a long story.”

He looked up at her finally, a grin slowly creeping across his face. “I believe you.” Hiravias fell silent again, and when he spoke up a moment later his voice was heavy. “Did the decision have anything to do with Teir Evron?”

She nodded, swallowing hard before saying anything. “It was a large part of it, yeah. And now that I can, y’know, summon sunlight at will and shit, I guess I just figured…”

“You thought you would find answers.”

“Which is _stupid_ , considering I spent like a year telling you not to expect shit like that.” Letting out a little puff of air, Neria threw her arms over one of the battlements and rested her chin atop the stone. “I mean, I’ve always made a point to _avoid_ the gods, so I guess I never realized how difficult it is.”

Hiravias regarded her for a moment, then gave a little shrug. “But you were right. The Seeker God doesn’t give clear answers. He gives us challenges, and we have to find the answers within those challenges.” He turned to face her fully, more sincerity in his gaze and voice than Neria had seen in a long time. “Perhaps by guiding you to the opportunity to train as a druid, Galawain has given you the tools to hunt down what you’re looking for.”

Shoulders slumping, Neria let out a long, exasperated groan. “Ugh. Hylea’s tits, is that what I sounded like back then? _The gods are fucking with you_ ,” she mocked in a nasally voice, waving one hand in the air, “ _but what if that’s the whole point_?”

Hiravias’ bout of stoicism cracked, and he broke out into a grin. “Welcome to religion, my watcher friend.” He reached over to give her a hearty clap on the shoulder. “Hey, you still have to show me what you’ve learned. Any spiritshifting yet?”

She perked up at that, and admitted, somewhat sheepishly, “No, and I really only know a handful of spells. I could still kick your ass in a straight fight, though,” Neria added, shooting Hiravias a grin of her own. She wasn’t really feeling any better about the situation, or closer to Galawain; Hiravias had only told her things she already _knew_ , after all, but hearing it from someone else was… helpful.

She’d chosen Galawain back in Teir Evron because she’d felt, for the first time, like she’d understood a god and their domain. That initial clarity had been gifted to her without any sacrifice or effort on her part; if she was going to have to forcibly take any deeper understanding -- well, Neria was good with force.

 


End file.
